Stepping forward and falling over the overly long robe of the Horoscopist, the Felidhan howled in annoyance, hissing at their fellow sentry before composing themselves.

"I am Fwuggle Patch, the Axetarian. Follow me if you want to be an esquire!" Standing tall and proud with an axe that would require two hands by most adventurers.

The second to come forward was the really small Koanit lady shuffling to the front and squeaking up, "Me Gumpetta. Me Silversmack. Follow if want be a knuckler, GUMP GUMP." Horace couldn't really understand how they were a practitioner of martial arts; they looked like they could barely reach anyone taller than 60cm with how short their arms and hands were.

It's like looking at a hairy tyrannosaur, heh...wait, what the hell's a tyrannosaur!?

Standing behind the rest of the group, a huum wearing thin green cloth attire and sandals was rotating dozens of knives between his fingertips, every other one cutting chunks out of his brown skin. He spoke up, "I'm Jason Kroogah, OW. Follow me, OW, if you're into bows and ranged things."

The Art Sentry wasn't happy and decided it was a good time to protest. "We all agreed I would go first, you bakas." He had an annoyed look on his face and pouted towards the other sentries. Fwuggle and the knuckler sentry looked straight through him, as if he wasn't there. Jason was pretty annoyed and wanted to kick him to the curb.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "Ah, shut up, Norman, you're only here since no one else wanted the job," replied Jason.

Norman sulked at the insult and slumped his way forward. "I'm Norman. I, uh...will be your sentry if you, uh, want to be a wand waver..." sob. As he shuffled to the front, he stood there, staring down at the floor.

Horace looked at his newfound acquaintance, trying to see if they thought it was just as awkward for her. "No way am I going with that daft fuuker. He'll probably teach me how to kill myself faster. I can smell a useless twat a mile away."

Several students began to split off, heading to their chosen sentry. The Axetarian named Fwuggle, Gumpetta, and, surprisingly, Norman's slots were all filling up quickly. Jason grinned with the numbers that turned up on his side. Only two had come forward, and just three students still remained without a sentry.

The venting teen spoke up, "Too many went to the knuckler side. Ughhhh, why is my life so difficult? Fine, I'll just go with the Arts guy." Horace and Labaley stared as he walked to the wrong sentry and stood away from the rest of his group. "He'll regret that soon enough. My mum said to me, "If you want to live longer, it's usually the ranged ones that do."

Jason's grin began to sink as he, Labaley, caught him smiling. Ah, bloody hell, they're coming to me! Lead the way, Horace." The pair wandered towards Jason, who was losing the will to live by the second. "I thought I'd have an easy time with this one, but I SUPPOSE it's still a small group with you sods... Get your asses over to the range; the last one there smells of piss!"

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